


Till The Night Closes In

by SunGreen70



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: M/M, Pre-Whose Line, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunGreen70/pseuds/SunGreen70
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted on LiveJournal in November 2013. Pre-Whose Line, in which Ryan is dragged to a concert by his girlfriend and ends up having an unexpectedly good time with a stranger. The song lyrics used in the story (and the title) are from "Kiss You All Over," by Exile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till The Night Closes In

_“Oh my god!”_

Ryan winced as the excited shriek pierced his eardrums, and his hands instinctively flew up to cover them. Unfortunately, since he was wedged in by bodies on every side he succeeded only in elbowing the guy behind him.

“Sorry,” Ryan said over his shoulder, though he doubted he could be heard over the din. But the guy gave him a pained nod in response before turning back to his girlfriend, looking as unhappy as Ryan felt. Ryan almost smiled, but his head was pounding too hard. The small concert hall was packed with what looked like far more than the one thousand bodies a faded sign on the peeling plaster wall declared the legal limit. They were almost entirely female, and it seemed to Ryan that every last one was screaming. Since there were no chairs, they pressed relentlessly forward, all hoping to get a few inches closer to the stage.

The overcrowded room was excruciatingly hot, adding to Ryan's headache. He wiped the sweat from his brow and shifted position, trying to put a bit of space between him and the chattering young women packed around him. But the minuscule gap he managed to eke out was quickly filled in by yet another concert-goer who eagerly lunged forward to claim it. Her arm pressed against Ryan’s, her skin sticking to his. There was no room for him to pull away.

Ryan sighed, then stumbled, nearly losing his footing on the sticky floor as a couple more girls pushed past him in the direction of the stage. Gritting his teeth in annoyance he looked around for Pat, who kept disappearing among her gaggle of girlfriends. He caught sight of her pink T-shirt, several body-lengths away, as she clutched the arm of one of her friends and screamed into her ear. He couldn’t have gotten her attention even if there was a chance she could hear him. Ryan let out an exasperated breath. Why had he agreed to come here, anyway?

Well, he hadn’t actually. Pat had brought the tickets over the night before, announced that they were going, and that he would be driving. And picking up four of her best friends. When Ryan tried to protest, Pat silenced him first with her lips, then with her body. The matter was settled.

Trying to shift into a more comfortable position, Ryan thought wistfully of the last concert he’d been to. He had gone to see Van Halen at the Pacific Coliseum with Colin and a couple guys from TheatreSports. They’d had a great time up in the cheap seats, passing around a joint and drinking semi-warm beer from the concession stand.

Beer. Ryan looked longingly over his shoulder. There was a bar at the back of the room, and not even much of a line, but to get there he’d have to push his way through the throngs of overexcited girls and then back again. The very thought was exhausting. A joint would be even better, but Pat would have had a fit if he’d tried to bring one along. Ryan resigned himself to a long, sober night.

The house lights dimmed, signaling the arrival of the band on stage, and the noise rose to a level Ryan couldn’t have imagined possible as the audience screamed in hysterical delight. His hands flew up to cover his ears again and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could help block out the sound. The oppressive heat of hundreds of bodies seemed to close in on him and he wavered, momentarily dizzy.

A jarring electric guitar chord reverberated through the small space and through Ryan’s throbbing head. The shrieking of the audience members increased even more, and as the band launched into their first song the lights on the stage went up, shining directly into Ryan’s eyes. Someone pushed into him from behind and he pitched forward, arms flailing. He caught himself before he fell, but even as he struggled to regain his balance, a sea of bodies surged forward, shoving against him and threatening to knock him down and crash over him.

A wave of panic seized Ryan. He looked around for Pat, but didn’t see her. Visions of his girlfriend crushed on the floor while the screaming mob stampeded over her entered his mind, terrifying him.

“Pat!” he shouted, his voice immediately swallowed in the din. He pushed forward; forcefully shoving between people as he frantically scanned the crowd. “Pat!”

“Watch it, asshole!” someone shouted in his ear as he knocked into him. Ryan whipped his head around to tell the guy to fuck off, and that was when he caught a flash of pink bobbing up and down, at least ten rows of bodies ahead. He craned his neck for a better look. It was Pat, all right – shrieking and giggling as she clutched the arm of one of her girlfriends, the two of them dancing joyfully to the music.

Relief that Pat was safe quickly gave way to anger. She hadn’t been hurt at all. Apparently she’d been one of the mob rushing for a closer position to the stage, while Ryan had nearly been trampled to death.

 _Fuck this_. Pat didn’t need Ryan, and Ryan didn’t need to be in this sweltering hell hole watching her have a great time without him. He spun on his heel and began making his way towards the back of the room. It wasn’t difficult – everyone behind him was more than willing to let him pass so they could squeeze into the space he vacated, that much closer to the stage. He made it to the bar quickly enough and bought two oversized plastic cups of beer, one for each hand. Well-fortified, he stepped through the wide archway behind the bar into the corridor and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim florescent lighting. It was much cooler and less crowded, with just a handful of venue employees roaming about and a few people going in and out of the bathrooms. Even the din of the concert seemed muffled to a bearable level out here. Ryan exhaled sharply with relief.

He really just wanted to go home, but he would never ditch Pat like that - however annoyed he was at her for ditching him, he thought self-righteously. Besides, he’d never hear the end of it if he did. So, he would just chill and wait for her out here. At least the bar was only a few steps away. Ryan looked around for a place to sit.

“For me? You shouldn’t have!” Ryan glanced in the direction of the nasal voice and saw a guy with a mop of unruly hair and giant glasses leaning against the wall and grinning at him. He lifted a cigarette to his lips, and as he inhaled, Ryan caught a whiff of the sweet, acrid scent that told him this was no ordinary smoke. Startled, he glanced around, but though several employees were nearby, none seemed to care that this guy was smoking pot right under their noses. Ryan started to move away without responding, but the aroma was too enticing. He looked back at the guy.

“Trade you for a couple of tokes,” he offered, holding up one of the cups.

The guy’s grin widened. He held the joint out with one hand while reaching for the beer with the other. Ryan handed it over and took a long drag. Bliss. He felt the tension start to drain out of him and he leaned up against the wall next to the guy.

“I’m Ryan,” he said after a moment.

His companion swallowed a mouthful of beer. “Greg.” Ryan waited, puffing on the joint again, but Greg didn’t ask for it back or say anything else.

“Your girlfriend drag you to this?” Ryan asked after a moment of silence.

“Nope.”

Silence again. Ryan looked away, disconcerted, but the weed was beginning to take effect and he quickly forgot his discomfort. He took a swallow of beer and relaxed against the rough stucco wall. Greg held his hand out for the joint and Ryan gave it up reluctantly, but Greg passed it back after taking a drag. Ryan tried again.

“You live around here?”

“Nope.” Again, Greg fell silent. But after a minute, he added, “Arizona.”

“Arizona?” Ryan looked back at him curiously. “What are you doing in Canada?”

Greg shrugged. “Traveling.”

“For work or something?”

Greg raised his eyebrows. “Nosy little thing, aren’t you?” He didn’t seem annoyed, but Ryan was embarrassed. He glanced at the double doors across from them and thought about taking off and just waiting for Pat out in the parking lot. The Exit sign cast a flickering glow on Greg’s face as he turned to look directly at Ryan.

“Relax,” he said, regarding him with a half-smile. “Everything is going to be all right.” As Ryan stared at him, Greg held out the joint. A peace offering. Ryan hesitated, still considering ditching him, but finally grabbed the roach and took a deep drag.

The weed was potent, and Ryan was soon completely relaxed, the stress of the earlier evening melted away. He lost track of time as he and Greg stood side by side in the dim corridor, sipping their beers and passing the joint back and forth. Occasionally they exchanged a word or two, and once Ryan ventured back inside to the bar. He purchased two more cups of beer and gave one to Greg without discussion. The music pounding away inside made a muffled soundtrack as they idly watched the steady stream of venue employees and restroom traffic passing by. Smoke drifted around them, forming a haze that made Greg appear distant and unreal anytime Ryan glanced his way. Like he was someone he had only dreamed up.

From inside the main room came an excited roar as the band began the opening chords of a song that Ryan immediately recognized, since Pat played it on the cassette player anytime they drove in her car.

_When I get home, babe_  
 _Gonna light your fire_  
 _All day I've been thinkin' about you, babe_  
 _You're my one desire…_

Ryan wrinkled his nose. “I hate this song,” he muttered to Greg.

Greg didn’t reply. Ryan couldn’t be sure if he’d even heard him. Greg took a final drag on the joint and stubbed it out on the wall, then turned towards Ryan. “You dance?”

Ryan looked up, not sure he’d heard right. “Huh?”

“ _Dance_. Do. You. Dance?”

Ryan snorted. “No.” God, this guy was weird. He glanced down at the end of the joint, which Greg had dropped on the floor, and decided it was time to go. He’d wait for Pat at the car. Raising his hand in a farewell wave, he started to speak, but Greg’s hand closed around his wrist. Startled, he looked from Greg’s hand to his face. Before Ryan could say anything, Greg tugged him closer and slid his other arm behind Ryan’s back. _The hell?_

“What are you-” Ryan tried to move away, but Greg’s hand pressed gently on his back, drawing him in until their chests were touching.

“Relax,” Greg murmured into his ear. “Everything is going to be all right.” Ryan couldn’t see Greg’s face, but he could envision the same half-smile that he’d given Ryan earlier, when he’d spoken the same words. Slowly, Greg began swaying in place, his body crossing the nearly non-existent space between them, his hips bumping Ryan’s with each gentle motion.

 _What the hell are you doing?_ The words formed in Ryan’s brain, but didn’t make it to his lips. He could have shoved Greg away from him, but he didn’t. His head was foggy from the weed and the smoke and the noise. His limbs felt heavy, and the thought of getting into a physical scuffle exhausted him. Not that Greg was being forceful. His hand was light on Ryan’s back. His other arm came up and draped itself lazily across Ryan’s shoulder. His movements were languid, almost sleepy. Despite his bewilderment, Ryan found his body moving almost against his will, closer to Greg’s until they were pressed up against each other. Without quite meaning to, Ryan swayed along in rhythm with Greg, so slowly they almost weren’t moving at all. The pot induced haziness in his brain muffled the more rational thought that this was completely insane.

_Gonna wrap my arms around you_  
 _Hold you close to me_  
 _Oh, babe I wanna taste your lips_  
 _I wanna be your fantasy, yeah_

Ryan’s eyes drifted shut. His body relaxed and slowly molded itself against Greg’s as they continued to sway together. The top of Greg’s head came to just under Ryan’s chin, and he breathed in the scent of pot smoke and soap and something else, some musky, unidentifiable scent that was simply Greg. A small smile crossed Ryan’s face. He felt suddenly, completely at peace in this smoky cocoon of dim light, muffled noise, and languid motion.

_You can see it in my eyes_  
 _I can feel it in your touch_  
 _You don't have to say a thing  
Just let me show you how much_

Ryan wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he became aware of a familiar tightening in his groin. The peaceful otherworldliness shattered as Ryan jumped away from Greg. His eyes flew open and went first to his fly, then to Greg’s face. Ryan’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. “I…” he began, but trailed off. Greg shook his head, smirking slightly.

“S’okay,” he murmured. He reached out and drew Ryan to him again. Ryan went stiffly, not because he had any desire to resume dancing, but because he was afraid of what Greg might say if he refused. He closed his eyes again, this time to avoid looking at Greg.

Ryan felt himself trembling, as if the corridor had been swept by a cold breeze. _What the fuck?_ Nothing like that had ever happened before. Well, there’d been that one time when – but that didn’t mean anything, Ryan reminded himself quickly, the way he always did when he thought of it. It hadn’t been a big deal, anyway. He and Colin had staggered out of a bar at closing time one night. It was icy out, and Ryan slipped, grabbing at Colin and succeeding only in pulling him down on top of him as he hit the pavement. They struggled to get up but their drunkenness was no match for the ice and they stayed prone on the freezing ground, Colin sprawled on top of Ryan and both of them convulsing with laughter. When they finally made it to their feet Ryan realized with a shock that immediately sobered him that he was hard. Colin didn’t seem to notice, but Ryan quickly ended the evening and hurried home alone, where he lay awake for hours wondering what the hell had just happened. In the morning, he convinced himself that it had been the beer. That was all.

And that was all this was, Ryan assured himself now, with grim determination. The beer, and the weed. Even though he usually couldn’t get it up when he was stoned – one reason Pat objected to him smoking – but that didn’t mean anything. It was definitely the weed, and the beer – together they were sure to have some strange effects on him. Like that despite the fact that he was now suddenly stone-cold sober, he was still pressed up against this weird guy he wasn’t sure he liked, slowly swaying in his arms to a song he knew he hated, and despite the fear and confusion of it all realizing he didn’t want this to end…

_I wanna kiss you all over_  
 _And over again_  
 _I wanna kiss you all over_  
 _Till the night closes in_  
 _Till the night closes in_

From inside the venue, the song came to a stop amidst a roar of cheers and shrieks, and the lead singer called out a goodnight. Somewhere in the back of Ryan’s mind came the thought that he needed to step away from Greg. But it was Greg who moved first. He dropped his arms as casually as he had put them around Ryan and took a step back – a very small step. He studied Ryan’s face with his funny half-smile. Ryan could only stare back, confused and frightened and wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now.

Before he could do anything, Greg came forward again. Without saying a word, he slipped his hand behind Ryan’s head and pulled it down towards him. He kissed Ryan’s lips, so quickly that Ryan didn’t have time to react before Greg released him. Again, they stood gazing at each other without speaking, Greg smiling and Ryan…well, he didn’t know what his face showed. He hardly knew where he was.

Inside, the house lights came up and the audience began spilling out of the doors into the corridor. The hallway lights too were turned up, making Ryan blink as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He took another step away from Greg, running his hands self-consciously down his shirt front as though some kind of evidence would be clinging to it.

As the noisily chattering concert-goers began swarming around them, Greg nodded at Ryan.

“See you around,” was all he said, before he turned and joined the crowd heading for the exits.

Ryan reached up and rubbed his temple, the pounding headache of the start of the evening suddenly back. _Like hell you will_ , he thought as Greg moved further away.

He hadn’t spoken aloud. But just as Ryan finished the thought, Greg turned around and looked at him again. His smile was wide and knowing. There was no way for Ryan to hear him, and it didn’t even look as if he had opened his mouth. But the message was clear, reverberating through Ryan’s brain before Greg disappeared completely into the crowd.

_Count on it._


End file.
